Work Text:
Isadora Capri had become a master of calculated risks. If asked, most people would identify her as a former child prodigy turned music educator and therapist. Sometimes a half truth was a clever enough cover. This half truth allowed her to slip in and out of communities when needed. Her process was simple:
- Keep an eye on the web crawler that looked for media chatter indicating an escalation in unexplained "animal attacks"
- Scout local schools, non-profits, correctional facilities, or community centers in the area that may benefit from a classically-trained music teacher and/or therapist
- Put self in proximity to the suspected target to assess condition, current safety, and extraction potential
- If extraction is possible, try to work within the system first, resorting to what might amount to aiding and abetting only when absolutely unavoidable
She'd already had her eye on Jericho but when the cooling off period between "animal attacks" shortened, she put her other responsibilities on the back burner to dedicate her time to Step 2.
Some might question her for not reaching out to the local authorities, but that level of risk was great. Secrecy was paramount to the safety of the packs she supported, and injecting herself into an investigation was a surefire way to get herself put on a watchlist—no matter how much her intuition tingled reading the chatter on the hiking forums warning would-be backpackers off from the area. But it certainly didn't mean she'd slept well after her phone buzzed with the news: “Normie Attempts Supernatural Genocide at Nevermore Academy”. The official article hadn't mentioned that said Normie had enslaved a vulnerable outcast to assist with her goals, but the irritating sensation at the base of her skull persisted.
One would think that the fact that the genocidal Normie in question had been a Nevermore teacher might make Isadora's own hiring process more stringent. But the board had jumped at the chance to use her name and notoriety to redirect public and parental attention. She'd moved into her on-campus cottage the moment she'd gotten clearance, well before the restoration of the main buildings were far enough along for students to return to campus. The new crawler she'd set up to monitor the surrounding county's public records identified her target before she could even begin unpacking her things. Sixteen-year-old Tyler Galpin had been indicted with a laundry list of charges for crimes committed under the control of one Laurel Gates and had been sent to a local mental hospital for treatment while awaiting trial.
She'd swallowed back bile at that. Sixteen.
It wasn't that young hydes were uncommon. Sometimes their unlocking was accidental—the result of a terrifying medical incident that triggered the gene like an overreactive fight or flight response. But more often than not, manifested hydes of any age were the result of intentional trauma. And anytime she read about the existence of another hyde she couldn't help but see him in them.
She hadn't known Alfie at that age, but she’d seen pictures. Carefree. Creative. Years before Minerva Gerrick introduced him to "violent expressionism". As she analyzed Tyler Galpin's mugshot, from his scared face to his fevered hazel eyes, she wondered who he'd been before his master.
Unfortunately, Isadora couldn't just ask the doctors at Willow Hill what they had learned about the boy's past. Her process demanded that Dr. Fairburn remain unaware of her knowledge of the boy's existence at all—at least at the start.
It had all been going according to plan until the night of her first music therapy session for the Outcasts under Fairburn's care.
It wasn't that Isadora underestimated the Addams girl. If anything, there was something uncomfortably similar in their stories—a smart, talented young woman who found herself caught between a hyde and his homicidal master—that made her that much more cautious. Yet she wasn't too proud to admit that she hadn't anticipated Wednesday's actions to lead to the total failure of the electrical system that night and result in Tyler's escape from custody.
For all her talk about succumbing to the beautiful chaos in music, Isadora wasn't exactly enjoying the way the chaos factor had exponentially increased in her own life. No longer was she trying to save one dangerous, but contained, teenaged hyde from a life as a lab rat. No, now she had to find a rogue, masterless hyde before goth Nancy Drew could try and master him herself. Oh, and did she mention that Nancy Drew's roommate was beginning to exhibit potential of being an alpha werewolf? And she was still trying to keep her cover and do a halfway decent job of preparing her students for their performances at the upcoming Gala over which the insufferable principal couldn't stop breathing down her neck.
Yeah, it was no big deal. Just another day in the life of Isadora Capri.
Ultimately, she knew she must stick to the process. And, thanks to the prison break, that process now required her to revisit Step 3 taking into account the new risk factors. Until she could consider it from every angle, she couldn't act. Nevertheless, Tyler's story still consumed her thoughts. What Laurel Gates had done to him. Who he'd been before it happened. What he might do now that he'd dispatched his master, Laurel Gates.
It had taken Alfie a devastatingly short time to deteriorate after he killed Minnie. Despite Isadora’s accelerated healing, she was still in the hospital when the SWAT team found him. He'd been hiding out in a landfill, injured and beyond reason. She tried to push away the visceral memory that twisted violently in her chest. When things got really bad, it seemed to play on a loop in her mind. She could see herself lying in the hospital bed the moment the officers entered. They hadn't been prepared for her reaction. It'd taken a whole team of nurses to restrain her. In the end sedation had been their only option because Isadora had detonated when they told her the news. “Eliminated.”
But Tyler wasn't Alfie. None of them were. And if Isadora allowed herself to miscalculate the chaos factor, more than just one hyde would be in danger. Plus, she had Enid to consider and how to shepherd the lupine dancer away from a dangerous situation of her own.
But Wednesday Addams' meddling derailed that, as well.
Not that Isadora blamed Wednesday nor Enid for what happened. From Enid's account once she'd been coaxed back into her human form, Isadora agreed that she'd had no other choice. It was either put an alpha-sized target on her back or let her "bestie" suffocate to death.
Her father blamed it on her savior complex. Her mother had lovingly referred to it as "Izzy's stray habit." Whatever you wanted to call it, Isadora found herself unable to leave the girl at the mercy of her fellow werewolves. So the moment she'd gotten a listless Tyler Galpin settled into a cabin under Janelle's capable watch, she'd gone alpha hunting.
Over the past few weeks, Tyler and Enid had come to a comfortable enough tolerance of one another. The hyde was fairly stable, given the circumstances. He hadn't exactly bonded with the pack yet, but seeing other masterless hydes not only function but thrive together seemed to be enough to keep him from descending into madness. And try as Enid might contribute to their little community, it was clear the wolf already belonged to another pack. One that included Wednesday Addams. So Isadora had been quite genuine when she'd encouraged Enid to invite Wednesday to camp.
Now, Isadora Capri hoped her intuition wasn't steering her wrong as she prepared for the one variable that seemed to continually fuck with her careful calculations to waltz directly into the safe haven.
Tyler took the news of Wednesday's impending arrival well-enough, Isadora supposed. It was hard to tell with the boy. But he hadn't immediately shifted in a fit of rage, so that had to be a good sign.
But during dinner the night before, Tyler had wandered away from the campfire, face carefully blank.
Enid followed almost immediately, her own face showing every emotion—concern, apprehension, determination.
It had taken a lot of control for Isadora to let them go, but Janelle—one of the few hydes over fifty-years-old in existence and therefore a valuable mentor figure for this particular pack of primarily teenagers—reminded her that they needed to work things out on their own. It was another calculated risk. One that thankfully seemed to work out. Enid had returned a few minutes later, and gave Isadora a small, shy smile when she caught the girl's eye across the fire.
Tyler hadn't returned to his cabin until much later. Isadora watched his approach from her own cabin, pretending to enjoy a book in one of the two rocking chairs on the porch. It wasn't unusual for any member of the pack to disappear for hours at a time, usually running wild or hunting in their hyde forms to work through whatever emotions they didn't feel comfortable sharing yet. But when he returned that night, there was an ease to his walk she hadn't seen before. It made Isadora's eyes narrow at the tree line where he'd emerged but, even with her wolfish night vision, she couldn't discern anything beyond the expected undergrowth and trunks surrounding their borderland campground.
Isadora tossed and turned all night. The tingling at the back of her scalp urged her to pay attention, that something important was happening, but what it was she couldn't quite identify yet.
She was so out of it in the morning, even after two cups of shitty instant coffee, that she'd jumped when Enid appeared in the kitchen doorway. For a moment, she'd feared she'd somehow zoned out stirring pancake batter and not realized how late it had gotten. But no, for perhaps the first time ever, the spring-loaded werewolf decked out today in fluorescent pink was simply early.
Isadora stifled a yawn and spoke over the battery-powered radio blasting a slightly fuzzy 80s, 90s, and Today radio station that she relied on to get her through the morning shift, "Someone's excited for their friend to visit."
"OMG, you have no idea!" Enid squealed, snatching the lime green apron she favored from its hook on the wall and pulling it over her hair. "I need to connect with someone who has contact with actual civilization." She winced, sheepishly peeking out at Isadora from under her lashes, and added, "no offense."
"No offense taken," Isadora's lips twitched at the girl's unnecessary embarrassment, "I'm glad that you've decided you're ready."
Enid's hand froze on the refrigerator door, but only for a second before she pulled the slab of pork belly from its shelf and headed for her station.
"I asked Thing to print off as many screenshots of everyone's Instagram posts as he could and sneak them into Wednesday's bag for me. I cannot wait to catch up with the real world," she babbled as she worked.
Isadora's smile widened. It was typically a good sign when a new arrival began to crave a way to connect with those beyond the camp boundaries.
To stay below the radar, hyde packs choose to remain off-grid. A shell corporation owned this particular camp, but the less paper to trail the better. All fifteen-ish members shared a regularly replaced burner cell for short, metered calls to loved ones. There was a general store in town run by a sweet elderly couple who asked few questions. They allowed Frank, Janelle's son, to charge the phone while he completed various projects around their home and store. During her rare visits, Isadora tagged along on Janelle & Frank's supply runs so she could use her laptop to check in on the results of her various bot programs.
Two weeks after she'd arrived, Enid started staring longingly after the trio as they rumbled down the dirt road in Janelle's beater pick-up truck. It had been Janelle's idea to let the blonde join them and, though Enid had no doubt been sorely disappointed with the lack of pop culture news Mr. and Mrs. Drummond were able to provide, there was a noticeable difference in the girl's mood when they returned to camp.
"Someone's up early," Lamorne teased on his way in the door, tying on his go-to apron with a lifted brow. "And no coffee?"
"Nope!" Enid crowed excitedly, "Today's sunny disposition is all natural. Brought to you by the power of friendship!"
Lamorne barked out a laugh reaching for a bag of oranges he needed to slice. "If it's that powerful, I'm looking forward to meeting your friend."
Isadora could feel Enid watching her out of the corner of her eye.
"I was actually thinking about Wednesday and I going to the lake. Just the two of us."
The declaration made Isadora lift her head. Enid had paused butchering the bacon and was looking directly at her. The way she worried her lip as she waited on Isadora's thoughts made it clear just how concerned the teen was about having Wednesday and Tyler in the camp together. Isadora understood the feeling.
Lamorne's grin turned teasing again, "Oh, she's that kind of friend."
Enid's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, no, Wednesday is my roommate from school."
Both eyebrows were up at the hyde's sharp hairline as he pointed his knife casually between them. "You do remember who you're talking to, Sinclair? The whole 'and they were roommates' shit is pointless."
"We are, though. Just roommates. It's just that Wednesday has some history with hydes," Enid tried to explain, the first batch of bacon beginning to pop on her half of the griddle.
Isadora's father had taught her the best way to handle hyde anxiety was to remain calm. Their predisposition for emotional response made them attune to the energy of a person quickly, and if she allowed her own nerves to peek out, it could quickly destabilize an entire pack.
"More like one particular hyde," she reassured him, shoveling her current batch of pancakes onto a tray without turning, though she did glance at Lamorne so he didn't feel like she was being avoidant. "I've spoken with Tyler, Enid. He's promised to be on his best behavior."
"So has Wednesday," Enid grumbled, flipping the bacon one-by-one. "I'm just a bit concerned what their best might look like."
"Your roommate has history with Tyler?" Lamorne whistled lowly. "No wonder you two are so icy."
Enid winced, frowning at the sizzling bacon.
"Tyler and I are not icy," she argued, a little more bite in her voice than before. "We just don't have a lot in common."
Lamorne didn't back down at the change in her tone, instead saying, "Except for Wednesday."
Isadora pressed her lips together to suppress a smile and looked away from the browning pancakes to catch Lamorne watching the girl's furrowed brow with laughter dancing in his eyes. Oh, poor Enid, the camp's most playful hyde had found a pressure point and was as likely to give it up as a dog would a bone. Isadora cleared her throat delicately, drawing Lamorne's attention. She shook her head as subtly as she could, silently begging him to let it drop for now. Thankfully, Lamorne just shrugged and returned to his work with the fruit.
The pressure of being a musical prodigy might have killed Isadora's passion for music if she didn't need music like oxygen. She believed wholeheartedly that music healed wounds that medicine could touch. So that morning, as the lack of sleep and anxiety left her feeling extra vulnerable to her most painful memories, she used the music to tune out the kitchen, the camp, and the potential fallout from their visitor. She began to hum along with the radio and humming turned to soft singing which turned into all out belting when "Because We Want To" by Billie came on. By the time the remaining members of the pack turned up for their breakfast, Isadora felt more relaxed. The buzz in her mind was still there, but she felt optimistic about what lay ahead.
The unspoken camp rule was that whoever cooked ate first, so Isadora was already seated at the long table when it happened.
"Wednesday!" Enid shrieked, her pancakes, bacon, and fruit flying in all directions as she dropped her plate in mid-air.
More than a few of the pack members smiled as Enid flung herself into her visitor. After a brief pause, the newcomer stiffly lifted her own arms and returned the hug—it was unquestionably awkward, but Isadora had watched Wednesday dodge enough physical contact to know how meaningful the gesture would be to Enid. Which is why Isadora frowned when Enid went rigid in her friend's embrace. The werewolf pushed the raven bodily through the mess hall door so that no one could see them from the table.
A cold dread slipped into Isadora's stomach, even as she continued to cut into her pancakes. Thirteen pairs of eyes were looking to her for a response, even Janelle, though she seemed less unsure and more like she wanted to remind Isadora that she shouldn't worry until she knew exactly what she was worried about. As surreptitiously as she could manage, Isadora looked to Tyler.
The newest hyde had been standing at the buffet when Wednesday arrived. From his position, he could probably still see whatever exchange was taking place between the girls. A concerning smirk on his face, Tyler lifted a piece of bacon to his lips and chomped down with a sharp crunch. Discarding the half-eaten strip back on his plate, he swaggered toward the door.
Despite her best intentions, Isadora felt her claws slip free of her nail beds. Even though she managed to get her hands under the table before her claws appeared, with a table full of predators, there was no way they couldn't hear the way her heart rate picked up. Lamorne's shoulders tensed, his eyes locking on Tyler and then darting to the door, calculating the distance and what speed he'd need to move at to block the other hyde's progress. Even Frank, who'd spent his whole life in a hyde pack and therefore was rarely rattled by the potential for violence, held his breath. He looked to his mother who shook her head. There was nothing in Tyler's body language that suggested he might attack.
Sure enough, Tyler stopped at the door and asked loudly enough that even without their preternatural hearing, everyone would have been able to hear him, "So, are you two coming in?"
For the first time since she'd met him, Isadora Capri felt as if she was seeing a glimpse of Tyler before his hyde awakened. Only his profile was visible from this angle, but there was a new softness to his face, an almost hopefulness as he gazed out the door.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Isadora had been prepared for conflict. She and Janelle had discussed how they might handle a grudge match between a murderous hyde and the future Nevermore fencing team co-captain to collide. She'd prepared to talk Tyler off a ledge in case Wednesday's signature snark provoked his rage. She'd prepared to protect Tyler if Wednesday attacked out of a misperceived threat to Enid. She had not been prepared for a lovesick hyde.
No one even made an attempt to keep up the pretense of conversation as they listened to the clipped, cold response from Wednesday. The exchange resulted in Tyler stepping back to allow Enid and Wednesday entrance. He fell into step behind the pair as they strolled arm-in-arm to the buffet, looking a bit like an over eager puppy. All eyes tracked the trio silently.
"I'm sorry," Enid asked in a whisper they could still all hear, "did he just call you a cockroach?"
Wednesday's pale face went grey. "Drop it, Enid," she ground out, picking up a plate.
"Ahem," Janelle coughed pointedly.
Isadora's neck snapped back to find Janelle staring at her with a questioning brow. The muscle in her jaw flinched as she clenched her teeth in response. Beside her, Lamorne met her concern with a lopsided smile, as if to say 'kids would be kids.' It would be more comforting if Lamorne wasn't just nineteen himself.
"Allison," Lamorne tried to restart their earlier conversation, "you were saying something about plans for winter."
Allison ducked her head and reached up to tuck a lock of her long bronze hair behind her ear, wide eyes darting to the buffet one last time before she responded, "Yeah, Janelle and I were wondering about how the wood stores are looking."
While there was no hierarchy in a hyde pack—too much master trauma for most to willingly submit to anyone—Janelle's life-experience made her somewhat of a motherly figure for more than just her own son.
Janelle nodded encouragingly at the usually mousy Allison and continued, "I haven't wintered this far north in a long time. Most of you have never wintered in a place like this. If we're going to rely on the wood stoves for heat, we're going to need to be on top of our inventory. I'd also recommend we consider bunking up together for efficiency."
"I call whatever cabin Duncan is not in," Frank mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes.
Lamorne's elbow jutted out, catching Frank between the ribs who groaned in response. The group began to discuss best practices for their first winter at this particular camp. There was a concerted effort from everyone to act as normal as possible as Enid slipped into one of the remaining seats near the end of the group. They were succeeding until the breeze shifted.
All shifters, but especially hydes, ran hot. So even with autumn quickly settling into the area, the mess hall benefited from the cross-breeze created by leaving the doors at the front and back open. Now, a gust pushed through the hall from the kitchen, rushing over the table, and out through the main entrance.
On the breeze was a scent. Really two scents twined together. A pheromonal fusion that left no room for misinterpretation.
"Holy shit," Lamorne chuckled under his breath. "History, my ass. More like current fucking events."
"Or current events in fucking," Frank jibed around his eighth pancake.
"Frank," Janelle scolded with a frown, even as she inhaled deeper in disbelief of what her nose had already told her.
"Is that…?" Allison's question trailed off as she went beat red from hairline to neckline and she became unwilling to look up from her plate.
Isadora's heart hammered and she slowly turned to take in the newest chaotic variable to her increasingly complicated risk calculation.
The scent was coming off the pig-tailed teenager and hyde standing at the end of the table. The girl glared with a ferocity every bit as predatory as the so-called monsters starting back at her. Isadora had only caught the scent once in her life. And she knew it because she'd been told what it meant. But no hyde would require a verbal confirmation. Their instincts would tell them what Isadora's intuition had apparently been trying to tell her was coming.
Tyler's cheeks bloomed a bright pink, though his jaw tightened in challenge of anyone who might question him, question the claim. It was enough that even Frank found the restraint to keep his mouth shut from further comments. They all knew what it was like. How volatile it felt to be a young, masterless hyde. And that was without the territorial impulses they could all now smell on him—on them.
Enid, werewolf that she was, could smell the pheromones. That much was clear from the way her nose kept wrinkling as she glanced between her roommate and the boy still engaged in an awkward standoff with the pack. Isadora doubted, however, that Enid understood exactly what she was scenting.
And Wednesday Addams? Well, Wednesday Addams was the variable that was once again fucking with Isadora's best laid plans. Because Wednesday Addams smelled like the beginnings of a hyde mating bond.